


should have died hereafter

by Lise



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt Loki, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post-Thor (2011), Resurrection, making Loki miserable is my favorite pastime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 23:49:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5184353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody survives the Void. And that means <i>nobody.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	should have died hereafter

**Author's Note:**

> Ages ago, [this post](http://veliseraptor.tumblr.com/post/128598332450/maeglthebagel-opalescentnanomachines) crossed my dash, and my brain perked up and went "ooh, that sounds like good painful fun." So I wrote it, and this was the result. I'm still not sure I'm entirely pleased with said result, but, well - [throws up hands and drops fic on the table anyway]
> 
> I hope nobody's annoyed by the recent flood of short fic. I'm trying to pace myself, but I have a pretty sizeable backlog.
> 
> And I _am_ still working on the other stuff! I swear! Full time retail job makes it hard. :(

Loki did not think about what death would feel like when he let his fingers relax and fell. All he was thinking, in that moment, was  _let it be done._

There was no plan, no intent, no forethought, merely the hollow emptiness that followed  _no, Loki_ and then the thought:  _it could be over now. Let go and fall and it will all be finished, none of this will matter._  For a split second only he wavered, but there were just not enough reasons to hold on, and too many to fall. With his end, everything would be erased. He would not need to feel anything again. Oblivion awaited: no one had ever emerged from the Void. 

So he let go, and fell. 

At first it was only the drag, the bridge receding above him, Thor’s horrified face and his mouth shaping  _no_ ( _he doesn’t know, he doesn’t understand, when he knows he will be glad you were gone, or perhaps regret that he could not strike the finishing blow himself_ ) and it was almost like floating, or like the moments in air leaping from one of the high rocks above the water, waiting to hit the surface: breathless, exhilarating, silent. 

And then the Void swallowed him, the Bifrost vanishing into star-speckled darkness, and he was dying. 

He felt his lungs burst. Loki would have cried out if he’d been able to make a sound, sudden and raw pain filling his chest. His body fought to heal, clinging to consciousness so he was aware of the agony as his blood began to bubble, aware of the thin film of ice forming over his eyes and his heart laboring to go on beating. 

For once, the Norns were merciful. They did not force him to linger on through the rest. There was no rattling last breath: only silence, blessedly complete.

_It is finished._

* * *

The first sign of renewed awareness was a feeling like floating, or the soft rocking before sleep.

 _Look at this,_ a voice murmured, reverberating through his being. Loki did not stir. He was dead: what did it have to do with him? He could feel himself melting apart, his component atoms drifting away from each other. His consciousness tugged at something that held him back, like water lapping against cupped hands.  _How curious. Come here and let me look at you._

Something plucked at him, calling him forth, gathering the shreds of him together. He could feel it, whatever it was, pulling him back toward consciousness, toward existence, and tried to resist.  _No,_ he thought,  _I don’t want,_ but even as he thought it he knew that he could think at all meant it was too late. The dead did not feel desire. 

But he remembered-

Loki sucked in a breath. It  _hurt,_ and he tried to stop, but his body went on without him, breathing in defiance of his wishes. He remembered the feeling of his lungs exploding and felt panic surge - and just as quickly felt it stifled, not by him but by the other presence, the one that had pulled him out of oblivion.

 _Do you not wish to live, small thing?_ It asked, and Loki could not call it curiosity for to do so would have implied a kind of care he did not hear in that voice (if  _voice_ was the right word for something he did not hear so much as feel). 

 _No,_ he thought, squeezing his eyes shut.  _Let me go. I do not want this._

But his entreaty was ignored. He could feel his shattered body being mended, pieced back together, his spirit rebound to flesh it had fled, forced back in like a cat being shoved into a sack too small for it. Pain was not an adequate word.

 _What do you want,_ he howled, soundless, and heard his own voice make a gargling sound like some kind of dying animal. 

 _Hush,_ it said. His blood unfroze and began to flow; it seared his veins like fire. His heart squeezed as though it was being clenched by a fist, beginning to pump with reluctance that left Loki’s whole chest feeling bruised.  _You wandered into my realm, small thing. I have better use for you than to let you fade into nothing._

_You will be my gift._

Loki wanted to scream. Ice cracked on his lips but the only sound that emerged from his throat was an awful noise like the squalling of an infant.

 _Remember this, small thing,_ it said. Loki felt his entrails return to gurgling life, continuing his slow crawl backwards out of death.  _You are my gift. Not your own. Your death belongs to me now, and you will not have it until I choose._

Loki felt himself pressed like clay, pressure burning behind his eyes.

_Now wake._

Loki opened his eyes and nearly fell forward. A hand on his shoulder caught him and he stared, uncomprehending, at the stone under his knees. He sucked a breath into raw lungs and tasted decay. 

“What is it?” Loki heard, in a strange voice, low and strange. It sent a shiver down his spine.

“You sought a path,” said another voice, and Loki shuddered, because it was the same as had spoken to him between life and death, but cold and rasping. “I have found one.”

Loki’s brain worked slowly, but when he understood he started to laugh, grating over his throat, fresh and raw. 

Apparently he still had use. Just not to Odin. Reaching for oblivion and falling short even of that.

Now he had nothing left at all. Not even his death.


End file.
